Flying Alone
by Astiza
Summary: Tag to 4x05 - an expansion on the scene before Arthur goes to visit Gwen. What if Merlin disobeyed Arthur and stayed? Merlin has a feeling the king might need a friend after all, even if Arthur doesn't realise it himself.


**A/N:** Well Arthur was having some relationship issues in 4x05 for sure. Going all girly too. Anyway, I thought that little scene before Arthur goes to see Gwen needed an extension, so here we are - in which Merlin doesn't leave and stays to comfort his friend. Please review!

This isn't slash, but I suppose you could read it as unrequitted love.

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><p>Merlin stifled a yawn as he fluffed the embroidered pillows and turned down the duvet on the king's bed. It would be nice to have pillows like that on his own bed, he thought drowsily. Looking up, he saw Arthur rooting through his wardrobe, emerging grimly triumphant with a brown coat and his traveling cloak.<p>

"Off again?" Merlin asked, casually raising an eyebrow. "Another week in the wilderness?"

Arthur looked in his direction, not quite seeing him, before fumbling with the ties around the hood. Merlin rolled his eyes and prattled on – just thinking of midnight hunting trips made him cringe.

"Eating weird animals… being eaten by weird animals. No hot water, no baths. This will be the last time either of us get to sleep in a proper bed!"

Arthur paused, closing the door of the wardrobe with a click and fixed his manservant with a confused and slightly alarmed look. "Merlin, I'm prepared to face all manners of horror in this world, but if you think I'm sharing this bed with you.."

"What? No, that's not what I meant." Merlin grinned to dispel the awkwardness, but only succeeded in perpetuating it. Laughing nervously, he turned back towards the bed, fiddling with the sheet.

"Right. Good – comfort to know," the king replied curtly, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"That's my business. And Merlin – don't be here when I come back." The door slammed, leaving Merlin quite alone in the dark room.

The floor was cold on Merlin's back. He lay, staring up at the ceiling, hands folded across his stomach. Arthur hadn't really meant what he'd said earlier that afternoon about not needing his friends – everyone needed friends, even a king. Merlin wondered where Arthur had snuck off to, but he let it go. He had a feeling that the king was in no mood for him to follow.

_Don't be here when I come back_.

Merlin sighed sadly.

"Don't push your friends away," he murmured to the empty chambers.

The moonlight trickled into the king's chambers, broken only by the glass panes in the window, before falling upon Merlin's skin and turning it to a pearlescent white. Much later, the warlock felt himself drifting into unconsciousness just as he heard the sound of a latch being lifted. Arthur had come back.

The king swept into his room, his face tight with concealed emotion. His cloak and jacket were tossed over a chair and when he came around towards his bed he noticed someone lying on the floor.

Merlin.

Merlin opened his eyes warily. Even in the darkness of the chamber with the moonlight casting strange shadows, Merlin could see the intensity of the king's emotions. He let out a shaky breath and slowly stood up. The two looked at each other for a long time.

Finally, "I told you to leave."

Merlin cringed at the acid in Arthur's voice. "I know," he replied softly, not meeting the king's eyes.

There was another long pause during which neither man moved a muscle. Finally, Arthur turned away, running a hand through his hair until it was sufficiently disheveled. "Merlin I – just get out."

Merlin shook his head and took a step closer. Tentatively reaching out, he laid a hand on Arthur's shoulder. The king flinched and looked down at it before his eyes met Merlin's.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm your friend, Arthur, you can talk to me about anything; you know that."

Merlin watched as the anger faded from Arthur's eyes like a dying fire to be replaced with a hollowness he hadn't seen before.

Almost violently, Arthur turned away and Merlin's hand dropped back to his side. The king let a sharp breath out through clenched teeth and stalked towards his chair by the fireplace.

"Arthur?" Merlin followed him to the fire and took a seat on the rug beside him. Arthur looked down at him and the servant was startled to see tears prickling in the corner's of Arthur's eyes.

"Arthur, what's wrong?"

Feeling incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden, Arthur pressed his lips together as though he were afraid of the words that might tumble out. He had to be strong; he was a king. He had to set an example for his people and crying in front of _Mer_lin was the last thing he needed to do.

"You wouldn't understand, Merlin." Arthur swallowed and stared into the glowing embers in the hearth. He chuckled grimly, "You've too kind a heart to ever hurt someone you love – even if it was in their best interest."

The fire crackled softly in response to Merlin's prodding. Merlin drew his knees up to his chest and stared resolutely at a spot on the rug as though it had personally wronged him. Of course he had had to hurt people he loved – what, did Arthur think he was perfect? Merlin mentally laughed in a self-deprecating manner. He'd lied to so many people he cared about. Whether they knew he was hurting them or not didn't matter – he had done his fair share of harm.

"But because I'm king," Arthur said, "It's … my duty to look to the welfare of my kingdom before my own interests." He straightened up in the chair as he tried to convince himself this was true. The weight of the kingdom felt especially heavy tonight; personal sacrifice was part of ruling. His father had understood that. Uncle Agravaine understood that. And now Guinevere and Merlin were forced to accept it. A king couldn't have time for friends. He had to be alone. Arthur was prepared to resign himself to solitude.

"I must put aside my feelings for those I care about and do what is expected of me. That's how a good king should rule… isn't it?"

"It's not really my place to say, sire," Merlin said softly, plucking at the fur on the rug by his leg.

Arthur exhaled slowly and leaned over the chair's arm rest towards Merlin. "Merlin," he paused. "Merlin, what would you do if… you loved someone but it wasn't appropriate… wasn't what was expected of you?"

"Is this about Gwen?" Merlin asked quietly, raising his eyes to meet Arthur's. The king glanced down but didn't respond. Merlin rested his chin on his hands, considering what to say in response. Arthur hovered over his shoulder silently; the only sound in the room came from the tiny fire.

"Camelot needs a strong ruler," he began at barely a whisper. Arthur leaned closer to hear. "But a strong man doesn't hide from what's in his own heart, Arthur." Merlin looked up the king again. "You are going to be the greatest king Camelot has ever known. And to achieve that, you'll need the support of those who love you."

Arthur sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. "I just… I am responsible for the kingdom now and the kingdom will always have to come before me. That's what I've been taught all my life, Merlin. I have to rule Camelot the way my father would have."

"There is no one in this kingdom who loves Camelot more than you, Arthur. But you have a choice as to how you rule."

Arthur peered at Merlin, face shadowed, and suddenly the king looked extremely exhausted. Nodding curtly, Arthur rose and made his way toward the bed, sinking onto the mattress.

"Will you need anything else, sire?"

"Hm?" Arthur looked up again, as though he were confused to see Merlin still standing in his chambers.

"Shall I leave now?"

"You may go."


End file.
